Rapt in winter

~

Our bodies rapt

in humus

  scenting of decay

sounding under frost.

  Sun of winter

breathing low

into branches of sky.

Leaves transparent and tart

cover my breasts

my sighs

sinking

touched

into

your

warmth

~

This perfect decent

down down

below

the lilt of meaning

rising and falling

we may never

be found

again

“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

rapt in winter

“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

~

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/shelbob/65095407/”>Janesdead</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

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9 responses

  1. How quickly my thoughts fled to Shakespeare and honeyed words and love that decays when I should have thought otherwise and revelled in the natural bed of this love. Nature presents the finest sheets of leaves and mounds of pillows to cradle desire. Sweetly written, J.H.

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    • Often when words spout from the heart it takes the mind a few paces still to catch up. Thank you for the nuances…I’m most grateful!
      …although I do find the scent of humus intoxicating with renewal. :~)

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      • Yes. Leaves moistened by the dew, enriching the soil. Birthing life that sprouts so eagerly from the humus. Yes, I sense that. And the scent of redwood bark warming in the sun. And mountain streams splashing along stones paving the river banks.

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